Chapter 1:

Premonitions

Nineteen year old Obi-wan Kenobi sat on one of the meditation mats in the living area of him and his Masters shared quarters. Legs folded, back straight and hands resting on his knees, he was attempting- and failing terribly- to meditate. Nothing he did seemed to help his meditation along. The burn on his thigh kept twinging and itching at the worst times, the early evening sun managed to shine right in his eyes no matter where he dragged the mat, and every single time he managed to focus his mind, an errant thought would pop up and distract him. But still, he persisted.

After all, it was what a Jedi did in his spare time. Proper meditation, as he'd been taught, was fundamental to maintaining one's inner balance; and balance was the key to both accessing and manipulating the Force around you. A key that young Obi-wan just didn't possess today – hence the unusual before-dinner meditation session.

His morning sparring with Master Qui-gon had gone smoothly – until it hadn't. Half way through their session, Obi-wan had gotten… distracted… by the sight of his fellow padawan learner, Siri Tachi, wearing a very formfitting, very revealing sleeveless tunic while moving through her Form IV katas. While he was busy ogling, his Master had unsuspectingly landed a blow he hadn't been able to stop in time. A burn to the thigh, and a trip to the Halls of Healing later earned him an awkward, reproachful lecture on staying "in the here and now" and "pleasures of the flesh," as well as an extra two hour meditation session to reflect on his actions.

She had to have worn that on purpose. The thought popped up unwarranted, ruining his attempts to clear his mind once again. Just to mess with me. Logically, he knew this was probably not the case – plenty of female Jedi wore training tunics in that style – but he was just so mortified to have been caught staring at her in the middle of a busy training room.

Obi-wan's cheeks reddened. Rearranging his legs on the mat, he tried once again to focus and clear his mind. As he had been instructed countless times, he took in a slow deep breath. Drawing the Force in around him, he managed to examine and release his each of his emotions, one by one, into the current of energy around him. His frustration towards his meditation, and embarrassment over the incident with Siri melted away with practiced ease. Having finally completed the first steps, he let his mind go adrift…

Even the Force seemed to be unbalanced today, as Obi-wan felt himself coming back into his body much sooner than he expected. He frowned. That was unusual… Frustrated that his attempts at meditation had been anything but refreshing, he opened his eyes and rolled his stiff shoulders. He frowned as he felt one of his notorious "bad feelings" washing over him.

Qui-gon often teased him about his "bad feelings," claiming that his Padawan was so overwhelmingly pessimistic that it sometimes felt the need to exude through his pores (this coming from someone Obi-wan thought was nauseatingly hopeful about everything and everyone he encountered). But every now and then, Obi-wan's "feelings" proved to be credible premonitions.

From his position on the floor, Obi-wan inspected the room with a critical eye, but nothing seemed to jump at out at him as suspicious. He glanced at the chrono on the wall and sighed. Seeing as he hadn't spent very much time meditating, cooking dinner would probably assuage his Master. Perhaps it would distract him from this nagging feeling that something was wrong.

He picked himself up off the floor and straightened his robes before walking into the kitchen at the other end of the room. Opening the refrigeration unit, he studied its contents for a moment before deciding on Nuna and Rodian pepper soup. He made quick work of assembling and preparing the ingredients, and soon had them simmering away in a pot.

It was in the midst of slicing a loaf of Qui-gon's favorite sweet bread that his Master entered through the doorway of their quarters, two datapads in hand.

Upon entering the apartment, Qui-gon sniffed the air curiously. "Dinner? You've been busy. And look, Nabooian sweet bread," he teased. "I'm getting the distinct impression you didn't meditate like I told you to."

Obi-wan shrugged and turned around to face his Master, placing the bread on the table. "I have a bad feeling," he said as explanation.

Qui-gon nodded, setting the datapads on the kitchen table. "Do you think it's something serious or just a case of the pessimism-sweats?"

He rolled his eyes before turning around to stir the soup. "I don't know yet. It's not very concrete yet. I figured I'd meditate again in my room after dinner."

"There won't be any time for that, I'm afraid. I just got back from the Council chambers. We leave at 21:00 for Pantora." The older man pulled up a chair and helped himself to a slice of the sweet bread.

Obi-wan tasted the soup with a spoon before turning off the heat. He walked over to the cupboard and pulled out bowls and spoons, before setting the table. "So soon? We've only been back two days."

"With the political climate descending into chaos the way it is, I expect we'll be spending much less time on Coruscant than we have in the past," he said gravely. "The Pantoran government wants our assistance in negotiating mining rights between them and Orto Plutonia. It should be cut and dry, but it seems there are other interests at play as well." He gestured at the datapads on the table. "There's a dossier for you to go over before we leave."

"Yes, Master."

They ate in comfortable silence, Obi-wan pouring over the datapad on their assignment, and Qui-gon studying what Obi-wan suspected to be one of the man's beloved holo-dramas.

It was only a few hours later that Obi-wan found himself standing on a landing pad with his Master just outside of the Senate District staring at a dilapidated looking Starship class Corellian Runabout L46 with the words The Ta'veren sloppily painted on the hull. The Force roiled uncertainly.

IIIIIIIIIIIII

Obi-wan's eyes snapped open as his earlier 'bad feeling' exploded into a warning from the Force of imminent danger. He sat up from the bunk he had been sleeping in. He studied the cabin around him, frantically looking for the source of danger.

The cramped cabin he and his Master were sharing onboard The Ta'veren was empty except for him. Qui-gon's sleeping couch was still folded up into the wall, and his pack lay undisturbed in the corner of the room. Stretching out into the Force he sensed his Master on the bridge. Obi-wan scratched his neck and glanced at the chrono on the wall; the ship had only been in hyperspace for 6 hours. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up– the low pitched hummm of the hyperdrive was missing. Strange… he thought. Pantora, their destination, was still a few days out.

Frowning, he dressed quickly, attached his belt, and stuffed his feet into his boots siting at the end of the sleepcouch. When he palmed the door to the tiny compartment, he was surprised to see that the darkened hall was entirely empty. Most of the crew had apparently gone to bed for the night.

There seemed to be nothing outwardly wrong here either, but the warning of danger continued to pulse in the back of his head. He tugged at the bond he shared with Qui-gon. 'Why are we out of hyperspace, Master?'

'I don't know, Padawan. The captain is trying to figure that out now. They think the hyperdrive malfunctioned.'

'I sense something is wrong. Very wrong...'

'Agreed. Stay alert.'

He quickly went through the schematics of the ship he'd memorized upon boarding in his head, before turning left towards the Bridge at a fast trot. Letting his body run on autopilot, Obi-wan focused his mind on the warning in the Force. The closer he got to the bridge, the more the warning intensified. Something was about to go terribly wrong, but he couldn't seem to gleam anything from the Force as to what the danger was. Saboteur on the ship? Unlikely. Master Qui-gon and I are the only ones on the ship who aren't part of the crew. Besides, no logical motive… Maybe this bucket of bolts is finally coming apart at the seams? He grunted. Too simple. Whatever it is, it's more than shoddy engineering. Racking his brain, he couldn't even remember any of his premonitions that had been as severe as this.

Without warning, something struck the starboard side of the ship, sending him careening into wall and onto the ground. What in the seven hells was that!? After a brief delay, the ship's emergency claxons came to life.

Covering his ears to block out the angry screeching noise, Obi-wan managed to fish through his belt for his comlink and immediately signaled his Master. "What happened!?" he shouted over the din.

Holding the com up to his ear, he managed to make out his Master's response. "Pirates. They've struck the ship and disabled the engines. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he voiced. "Pirates, this far into Republic space? What are we going to do? Without engines, we're sitting ducks out here."

"We don't have much of a choice but to fight them off."

Obi-wan stared at the comlink in his hand incredulously. Only he would have gotten stuck with a renegade for a Master. He couldn't be serious… Right? "Fight!? Master, this is a transport, it doesn't even have any ion cannons. How do you propose to fight them off?"

Qui-gon replied quickly. "We're going to have to let them board the ship. Hopefully, between us and the crew we can overpower them. Meet me at the airlock."

Nothing is ever easy, he thought.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! It's been a while since I've written anything, so reviews and constructive criticism are welcome. Note that this story is un-beta'd. While I'm a History Major, and most grammatical errors do not escape my attention, occasionally a few slippery bastards slip through my grasp. Also, there's a Wheel of Time reference in this chapter, that hints to the future of this story... (Author cackles ominously)